Something to Hold On To
by detective-sweetheart
Summary: But most of all, she holds onto her pillow like an anchor, determined not to let herself get swallowed up in the world around her.


**A/N: Finally, a post-ep for "Undercover", since muse decided to withhold ideas from me for a while. I don't own SVU. **

* * *

She cannot sleep.

The problem with this is that she knows she needs to, but every time she closes her eyes, she can see that prison guard in the back of her mind, and it forces them open again. She keeps the bedside lamp on, because no matter how much she wants to turn it off, the minute she does, she is back in that basement that served as a makeshift 'motel' for the guards, so they could do as they would with inmates who couldn't do a damn thing about it. She wanders around the apartment, making sure that the front door is locked, that the windows are secure, so that no one can come in when she isn't expecting them to.

But most of all, she holds onto her pillow like it is a life preserver, determined not to let herself be swallowed by the world around her.

* * *

The bruises from when Fin had to hit her across the back with that nightstick so no one would make him are starting to fade.

In all honesty, she does not blame him for what he did, because she knows, too, what it's like to have to do things you wouldn't normally do in order to keep a cover. She explained this to him, afterwards, when they were finally retrieved from the prison by Munch and Elliot, sitting there in the backseat of the unmarked squad car. She had told him of the things that she had done on that stint with the Feds, and how she knew it wasn't easy for him to treat her like that while inside, and no, she doesn't hold it against him.

Both of them have had to play roles that neither of them liked.

The only difference between this time and the last is that this time, someone almost got hurt.

* * *

She has been hurt on the job before.

She has been cut, she has been shot at, she has had concussions, she's nearly died from breathing in something that shouldn't have been present in the air in an apartment building. She has been attacked verbally, almost killed numerous times, and has even hurt herself, though those instances were always accidents and never intentional.

Somehow, this is so much more different, and she knows that it is because it is emotional this time.

The guard knocked her around a bit, and in return, she fought back like she would have in any other circumstances, had run away, hidden, buying herself precious time until Fin realized that she wasn't where she was supposed to be. She had pushed the limits until there was nothing more to push, until she was handcuffed to that door and close to tears, willing someone, anyone, to show up and save her.

* * *

But she has never had to be saved by anyone else before.

If there is one thing that Olivia knows, it is that even if everyone she loves were to leave her, she would probably be able to survive. She is used to being on her own. She is used to there being no one to come home to and used to the precinct being the better part of her life. She used to think that maybe, one day, she'd actually have a life outside the squad room, but now the squad and the men that she works with are her life. She used to think that maybe, she'd be able to make it without them, and then she'd gone to Oregon on that stint with the Feds and had realized that she needed them more than anything else.

She refused to let herself get used to missing them, but she knows that she could probably still make it even if they were gone.

Or at least, she used to.

Her cell phone sits on the bedside table beside her gun and as she stares at the clock and watches the minutes tick by, she is overcome with the sudden desire to call someone.

* * *

So she does.

And then she waits, as it rings, first once, then twice, and then a third time.

Just when she is about to give up hope, someone picks up on the other side of the line.

"I'm here. Don't hang up."

And she doesn't. Instead she just sits there, and on the other side, Elliot does the same thing, just waiting, somehow knowing that it's her even though he's lying on his back with his eyes closed and he didn't bother looking at the caller ID.

"Didn't mean to wake you up." The words escape her in hardly a whisper, but somehow, he hears.

"I was already awake."

* * *

And he was, too.

Kathy is presently in the room that used to be Kathleen's, trying to get Eli to go back to sleep, and so far, it seems to be working, because all is quiet on the Stabler home front. Elliot remains where he is, on his back, and waits for Olivia to call him a liar, like she would normally, but she doesn't.

"Liv," he says, voice breaking through the darkness that exists only because his eyes are still closed, "Are you all right?"

She shakes her head, and then remembers that her partner cannot see her. "I don't know," she admits. "I was fine two minutes ago, and then I just…I don't know."

This admission is enough to make him open his eyes.

* * *

Over the past three years, she has been the one that was sure about everything, including telling him to go to hell.

So now, to hear that she isn't sure what she's feeling almost scares him. He does not know what happened inside that prison, because she would not tell him. All she did was say that she didn't want to talk about it, and that was that. He knows better than to push her when she doesn't want to talk to him, and vice versa. So he had left well enough alone, and has actually been lying awake for most of the night, as well, wondering if it had been the right move.

Apparently, it hadn't been.

"You want to talk?" he asks, now, and can almost see her shaking her head on the other side of the line.

"No," she says, her voice still as quiet as it was when she first spoke. "No, I just…I needed to hear someone else, y'know?"

He knows the feeling all too well, because he used to do the same thing to her, before he moved back home again.

"Hey, you know where to find me," he says, then, a half-hearted attempt at humor, but it makes her laugh, anyway.

"Thanks, El," she says, and then, "I really didn't mean to wake you up."

"I wasn't asleep. Really," comes the reply, and as he says this, he sits up, and leans back against the headboard. "Besides, I owe you."

She laughs again. "Yeah, you do." And then there is silence for a moment, and the only sound that either one of them can hear is each other's breathing.

Finally, Elliot speaks again. "I get the feeling you don't want to be alone right now," he tells her, and she sighs.

"You know me too well."

* * *

So he makes the drive across the bridge, after explaining to Kathy that something happened during this last case and the entire unit is trying to figure it out.

As he does this, Olivia gets up and starts to wander around her apartment, turning on all the lights as she does, unable to stand the darkness that seems to be surrounding her. She wants to make it all go away, wants to forget what happened to her in the prison. She wants to forget how close she came to becoming a victim herself, and how afraid she'd been that she would fall apart.

What she wants to hold onto is the fact that her partner is so willing to make the drive at this hour of the night. She wants to hold onto the fact that she is home, and safe, and a cop, and no one in the world can hurt her if she doesn't let them. And she wants to know that everything will be all right, that somehow, the memories that keep her up at night will fade, and that when she goes to the precinct, everyone else will be there, too.

The thoughts overwhelm her, enough so that she sits, finally, and waits.

* * *

There is no sound of a knock on the door, only the sound of it opening and closing, and then there is Elliot.

He says nothing as he sits beside her, but instead, silently holds his arms out to her, an invitation that she takes, at once, turning so that she's leaning against him, but staring out the window, at the rain.

"You're a better anchor than a pillow," Olivia remarks, and Elliot laughs.

"You didn't tell me you were looking for an anchor," he replies. "I probably could have found you one, y'know."

Olivia gives a derisive snort. "Yeah, right."

"Well, I would've looked. If I can be bothered to drive into Manhattan to save your ass, I'm sure I could have managed to at least attempt to find one."

* * *

The rewording of a line from years past makes her close her eyes and laugh, hard. And as she does this, she can almost see Elliot shaking his head at her, even though she technically can't.

"Quit laughing at me," he says. "I meant it."

"I know you did," she replies, and then, "Thanks."

"For what?" Elliot asks, and again, she can almost see the startled expression that must have crossed his face at this. She opens her eyes, and sure enough, it's there.

"For giving me something to hold on to."


End file.
